Rock and Metal
by Liimbo
Summary: Schoolgirl gives metalhead sociopath a haircut.


Hotaru Futaba was a soft-hearted, likable girl. Ask anyone who knew her. Easily flustered when caught daydreaming in class. Without enemies and friends with anyone and everyone. Will pass homework answers around in exchange for chocolate ice-cream (if broke then a pair of puppy eyes and pleading can be just as effective). Pretty, ordinary and chill with life: imagine how well she hid surprise when she saw a British serial killer dressed in a blend of metal themed attire walk into the barber shop she was working during one slow Wednesday afternoon.

'Hi! What it'll-wah!' She covered her mouth. 'Freeman!' she stammered through her hand. 'No see long time?' A beat passed. _Urgh_. She tried again, with her mouth open this time. 'I mean, it's been a while since the tourney. What are the odds, hehe?'

'I need a trim,' the man muttered, staring down at her with a malignant eye, the other covered by tresses of his pale ginger bed hair, which was even longer than hers when she considered it at length. He looked and sounded like a grouchy cat ready to murder anyone who so much as looked at him wrong.

Hotaru clapped her hands together and hoped they weren't trembling. 'Sure! If it's a trim you want then it's a trim you shall get!' she chirped a little shrilly. 'Just take a seat and we can get started right away!'

The next few minutes were a tense one. It didn't help that the roster for the week had it so that Hotaru was the only one present at the time, with the other two hairdressers she worked with currently out of the picture. Her boss was present fortunately, but unfortunately he usually spent his time in the back napping, especially on that day of all days as Wednesday's the middle of the weekday hurdle. So it was just her and Freeman, schoolgirl and criminal sociopath. She supposed she should have been glad she knew kung fu and tai chi, but then again, she met Freeman at a tournament for martial artists, and that last meeting showed how helpful that was.

'Sorry,' she squeaked as she tried to adjust the swivel chair he was sitting in, stamping the pedal to lower it so she could reach for his head, accidentally spinning the thing around at one point. 'These things are really dodgy.' She grabbed a toilet paper roll, unwound and ripped a strip and tied it around his neck, almost flinched when she felt how cold his skin was. She noticed his hair was recently washed too as it was damp. Very considerate of him as in her experience, it's hard to cut hair when it's dry and greasy. Saved her the time in giving it a rinse. 'So, how short do you want it to be?' She asked as she pulled a towel around his shoulders and clipped it close at the back of his neck. 'Something like a bowl cut?'

'Just a trim. Not too short.' He didn't know what a bowl cut was.

'Okay.' Hotaru took her comb in hand and with brief hesitation, picked a pair of scissors and gave it a few practice snips before she got to work. As she did so, she noticed he was really stiff, especially whenever the blades made a sound. She didn't comment on it though, afraid she'd somehow set him off. As she brushed and held out and shortened bunches of his dark orange locks she carefully and painstakingly considered what the end result would look like. The phrase 'not too short' was really ambiguous, but it was a common answer whenever she asked a customer questions on desired hairstyle. Usually, those people who were very particular on their grooming and would have given her a very specific answer would have their hair done in a salon somewhere in the upper parts of Southtown, and by someone they knew on a first name basis and who knew their preferences really well, but she still asked the questions anyway, for occasionally someone would reply instead with 'use a No. 3' or 'a Mohawk would be fine, miss.' With those who more or less left it up to her discretion, she learned to accurately guess.

'There! All done!' She blew away the loose hair with a hairdryer. 'Do you want me to gel it up?' She asked as she struggled to get the towel off of him.

'No.'

'Okay!' She watched as he stood up. 'So…What do you think?' She asked as Freeman observed himself in the mirror.

'…It'll do.' He headed over to the counter, getting there ahead of her as she struggled to keep up. 'How much?'

'Thirteen fifty.'

He gave her a twenty. 'Keep the change.'

She beamed. 'Thanks!' She opened the cash machine and deposited the bill and as she did so she didn't notice him leaning closer till she looked up again.

'Sorry about our last meeting at the tournament,' he murmured, seemingly oblivious to her mortification. 'Truly, I hope we can put that behind us.'

'Um sure,' Hotaru stammered, trying to figure out whether she should be watching his mouth or his eyes which were quite a startling warm brown when she considered it up this close. 'It wasn't your fault we got paired up to fight. I was hoping for the same.'

'Glad to hear it.' Freeman pulled back and half-turned away, holding up an arm in parting. 'Well, I'll see you later, love. Cheers.'

Hotaru watched him walk out, brow furrowed as she processed what had just happened. 'Love?' she muttered out loud, as the door slid shut. 'That's just metal lingo, right?' She patted her cheeks and glanced around at one of the mirrors. She breathed out in relief. Hadn't blushed, but another inch closer and it could have. An extra half-inch after that and it'd be definite. God knows what would happen if it'd been any closer. She walked around the counter and sat herself down in one of the swivel chairs, hand cupping chin and jean-clad legs swinging. She frowned as another thought occurred to her. 'Cheers?'

The door squeaked open. Hotaru turned in her seat, beaming immediately. 'Hi! What it'll-' Her eyes widened. 'Rock?'

'Uh hi, long time no see, right? I mean, what are the odds?'

'Very strange today, let me tell you that.' She eyed the blonde who stood there awkwardly, trying not to shuffle his feet. At least he was looking at her this time. Still stuttering a bit though. 'I take it you'll be needing a trim for that mane of yours?'

'Definitely,' Rock agreed, squinting as he flicked a few locks out of his eyes. He smiled nervously. 'Think you can help me with that?'

Hotaru hopped up. 'Sure. Let's get started then!' As Rock seated himself down Hotaru remarked: 'You know, a customer called me "love" not too long ago.'

'I see. Going to date him?'

'No way. You know him.'

'I do?'

'Yeah. From a tournament. It's the last person you'd expect too.'

Rock frowned. 'Butt?'

Hotaru stomped a foot. 'How many times do I have to tell you! His name's Marco, not Butt.'

'Sorry.'

'Anyway, it's really no biggie. I'm just wondering if you've seen him since then, Freeman I mean.'

Rock stiffened, not even noticing the girl wrapping the towel around him, which he would have usually. 'Him? He walked in here?'

'Yeah. Left just before you walked in.'

'And he didn't make any trouble?'

'Nope. Just sat in your seat and looked grumpy until I was finished. Then he was a gentlemen.' Hotaru gave a few practice snips of the scissors. 'Very strange, don't you think?'

'Very,' Rock agreed.

'So just a trim?'

'What did you give him?'

'Freeman? A crew cut. I left it a bit longer though.'

'Give me the same.'


End file.
